


Hoy mi Corazón se vuelve Delator (se abren mis esposas).

by wollstonecraft



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Alive Doc Hudson (Cars), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Cruz Ramírez is amazing, Doc is an Unreliable Narrator, Everyone Is Gay, Humanized Cars, Inspired by The Tell-Tale Heart, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Not so much angst this time!!, POV Second Person, Sally Carrera is amazing, You'll see what I mean, as always, but it's kinda secondary this time, but not really, but this is gonna be wholesome I promise, corazón delator, help me our lord and savior strip weathers, i still tag it because it may be a trigger for some people, its not really an alternative universe, more like canon divergency, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollstonecraft/pseuds/wollstonecraft
Summary: A Tell-Tale Heart.It sounds stupid, saying it out loud. After all, you were just a retired racer taking care of a lot of plants in a flower shop because retiring was deadly boring. Flowers were not people. You got along well with flowers.Until the fucking storm that was the Lightning's House of Tattoo and Body Art comes in, decided to become your new next-door neighbor for, at least, a whole year. Or a whole lifetime.Yeah, this ain't gonna be fun.
Relationships: Doc Hudson & Lightning McQueen, Doc Hudson/Lightning McQueen, Sally Carrera/Cruz Ramirez
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Hoy mi Corazón se vuelve Delator (se abren mis esposas).

**Author's Note:**

> Title in english: Today, my Heart becomes a Tell-Tale (my handcuffs get open).
> 
> It comes from the song Corazón Delator, from the argentinian group Soda Stereo! Friendly reminder to y'all that English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any misspellings or poor-worded things.
> 
> HEY EVERYONE, YOUR CARS STAN NICO IS BACK!
> 
> I'm not sure if this is gonna be a one-shot, a collection of one-shots, or if this is going to have some continuity and become a larger fanfic, we'll see. Life is a beach and then you drive, they say.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing any normal person from the neighborhood would be asking was: what on _the fricking heck_ was a tattoo and general body modification shop doing in the neighborhood. In _this_ neighborhood, completely surrounded by people way over their late forties, and where your shop was a complete success. Like, seriously. You were in doubt that another owner from a _flower shop_ could say they were making as much money as you were making, and that was just talking of the monthly income.

Still, you weren't doing it for the money (and that's maybe the reason why your shop is so popular), you were doing it because you genuinely like plants—the place is more like a nursery garden than a simple flower shop. Like, seriously speaking, you didn't only sell flowers for gifts or funerals (wow, that was a sudden dark turn), but you also sold a whole variety of plants (interior plants, exterior plants, ideal-for-balconing plants) and even tiny-trees that people could plant and wait for them to grow in their gardens. Heck, even your intern (yes, you make that much money, you can have _an intern_ in a fucking plant shop) convinced you to start selling bonsais, and you've really got to thank the girl (Cruz, she has a name, people) because there's a lot of people who suddenly decided they like tiny Japanese trees, and really, they get sold like freshly baked bread.

But yeah, this is your life now. After all, you were just a retired old racer (no one needs to know that part) taking care of a lot of plants in a _not-just-flowers_ shop because being just retired in the middle of nowhere Radiator Springs was deadly boring. But flowers were not people, and you got along well with flowers. You also get along with Cruz really well, because she doesn't ask a lot of questions, and she doesn't seem to have an idea about your racing past, even if she's also a big fan of NASCAR who wants to get a shot at being a trainer _(a racer, because you know she's one, but she has to believe it herself first),_ and even if you two sometimes stay from one to three-four more hours in the shop, just watching old (but not _that_ old) NASCAR races in the only TV you have in the place. She makes the best coffee you could ever have (well, she's colombian), and it's nice to share that passion with someone. Still, she's too young to know about your past as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, so she just calls you Doc. Because you used to be a doctor and because you have a doctorate, which is nice. Your workplace is very nice, your intern is very nice, and even if she's a kid and if she's really loud when she's excited about something, she also knows how to respect the things that really matter: your moments of needed peace and quiet, your silence, and your privacy.

And then... the fucking storm comes in.

“A TATTOO SHOP?!”.

Cruz is excited, you can tell. She was excited since the place next door (which used to be a... sports shop, you think?) had been sold instead of just rented. That was a surprise. The place was always, _always_ , getting rented by a new business and it would only last a couple of months. Six, maybe eight if they got extra money or a little more luck. It almost seemed like the place was haunted, or something, because those businesses didn't last long. But then again, it was Radiator Springs. A lot of places went down in Radiator Springs because it was more like a tiny village than an actual town. And also, because there wasn't a lot of _young youth_ in the town. Cruz was the youngest person you had seen and that only happened because her family was looking for a place where they could live without having to worry much about the fact that they were immigrants. Seeing it that way, it was pretty understandable that she was excited about this new shop, not only because she could get herself a tattoo whenever she wanted (you know she's been keeping a lot of her money in case of an emergency, since her family had its own business, and this seemed like a _good_ emergency for her) but because both of you know the place next door is _huge_. One of the previous businesses that were there was even a fucking _ice-skating ring_ (god knows why the investors thought it was a good idea when Radiator Springs was a literal desert), so, the idea of how a tattoo shop was going to use all that space was, at least, interesting.

Another thing that was, at least, a little bit interesting (not just for Cruz, but for everyone, even including you, which was a surprise) was that the actual owner of the shop wasn't around while they were installing and setting the place. Not even a little, and it was _weird._ Because it wasn't like it was a McDonald's. No, this tattoo shop was completely personalized, and it wasn't a second-shop. The owner was moving to work there. You could see how they were installing the front, putting those big red, yellow, black and white signs, and a lot of painted designs on the walls from outside, and of course, Cruz went around to say hello and offer lemonade to the workers (but god knows she only wanted a peek of what was happening inside those doors) and she came back like she just saw God herself and she was, indeed, a woman.

Well, it was indeed a woman, a blonde, blue-eyed woman who probably had thirty-somethings, and who was always wearing a light-blue female suit (you're pretty sure that thing was Yves Saint Laurent original, these people were billionaires now?) and driving a Porsche 996, also light-blue, shiny and freshly out of the car washer like it was a completely new model. She wasn't the owner, but she was, apparently, the one who invested a lot of money in making the place _perfect_ for the owner. Cruz said something about how she and the tattoo artist were long time best friends, like siblings. The only thing you could do was raising an eyebrow. You might be somewhat in the closet for the whole town, but you recognize _people like you, but younger, but happier, but prouder_ when you see them. Cruz couldn't like a man even if her life depended on it.

So, the days went by. The place seemed more like a Deli & Café more than a tattoo shop, but that would be stupid, since Flo's \8/ Café has been in this town since you all can remember, and no one would ditch a place like hers. Nope. It wasn't a café at all, it just looked like one (not from outside, but definitely from the inside; like a 60's café). A market strategy, probably. You didn't care much. It wasn't like it would be your competition, after all, what's more different from each other than tattoos and flowers?

But if you thought the initial installing, setting, getting the place ready was a storm, when the owner of Lightning's House of Tattoo and Body Art finally comes by to his now finished working place, stepping outside a bright red Chevrolet Corvette (with stickers about places he probably went, and of course, NASCAR stickers, like you weren't scared enough already), the storm was like a tornado, a tsunami, and an earthquake happening in the middle of nowhere Radiator Springs. The reddish hair you've ever seen, a three-day beard that was completely trimmed daily but it worked to seem like it wasn't, and when he takes his sunglasses off, you see the most bright blue eyes in the world, a thunderstorm in this desert, and you suddenly get _why_. He is the reincarnation of the lightning, the thunder, the storm. His black tank top shows his (obvious) tattoos, and you suddenly understand why the colors of the shop were chosen, but also, that sun-kissed skin with freckles, looking like it was covered in liquid gold thanks to the desertic aura that Radiator Springs has. Young, in his early thirties probably. Bright, beautiful, the definition of youth made in a person. His smile could light up London at midnight time.

The whole situation reminds you of The Tell-Tale Heart, by Edgar Allan Poe. Only this time, the one with the Tell-Tale Heart isn't worried about confessing a murder, but it's still a crime. Or so you think. It should be considered a crime that you're looking at him like you are looking at him. You're not worried about another heart calling you out, but you're definitely worried about yours. It is actually skipping beats, or is it beating too fast? Anyone else around you can hear it, or you're just being paranoid? And since _when_ you like young, blue-eyed, with this perfect, white smile boys that aren't fucking _James Dean?_

“Oh, hi there! I remember you! Cruz, right?”

“That's me!”, and you must look like someone threw coffee in the floor of your shop, because she laughs nervously, and proceeds to introduce you to him, even when you only want to run inside your plant nursery and just look at your bunch of pothoses for the rest of the day, while you also wonder _in what goddamned moment was Cruz able to see this guy before this day and you weren't_. “This is my boss, Doc Hudson.”

“Oh, hey, Doc! So we're gonna be neighbors! For this year, at least, my personal financial lawyer wasn't sure about this, but I had and still have a great feeling about the place! I have some co-workers who work with different specialties, now that I think about it you might have seen Sally already, she's the lawyer and my personal pain in the ass, but I'm the owner, and the main tattoo artist here, so call me whenever you need something! Lightning McQueen, at your service.”

Lightning. _Fucking_ Lightning. Lightning _fucking_ McQueen.

Yeah, this ain't gonna be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so that's it for now.
> 
> Yeah, this is definitely not the end, it's too open even for me. Maybe I'll write more drabbles of scenes in this canon divergent verse. Maybe this becomes a full fanfic. Who knows.
> 
> You can also follow me on twitter: @dyingintoshima.
> 
> Kudos and nice comments make writers happy, people!


End file.
